Call of Duty
by buttercupbella
Summary: For The Devils Song. In which the World War III is supposedly drawing near, but a newly recruited soldier named Natsume Hyuuga just might die a little earlier than the set date. "You know, some of us even become homosexuals in all-boys sleeping quarters."


**Call of Duty**

_Buttercupbella_

* * *

In which the World War III is supposedly drawing near, but a newly recruited soldier named Natsume Hyuuga just might die a little earlier than the set date. "You know, some of us even become _homosexuals_ in all-boys sleeping quarters."

* * *

_Click. _Natsume reloaded the gun with the swift push and pull of his sculpted hand, and adjusted his glasses so that the target was in perfect view. But he didn't really want to hit the bull's eye anyway, because all the crap in their country's armed forces didn't have to entangle itself with him.

Natsume wanted his fingers to tremble just so he could mess up the screening. He even wished he was a _girl_ so the army couldn't force him to participate in a "good" cause, the cause being another Great War in history.

_Click. _He prayed that the bullet would swerve and plummet to the grass instead, yet as his eyes fluttered, the officer standing beside him smirked, took out his ballpoint pen, and scribbled a check mark after Natsume's misspelled name.

"Shit," Natsume muttered.

.

.

When Natsume threw his navy-colored backpack on the double-decked bed, he never expected to go insane.

With a grunt, he sat by the bedside table and stared across the room, looking at muscular men even older than him. They flexed their biceps and began fingering their dog tags with gleams on their faces, but Natsume just wanted to puke at the prospect of getting killed.

Despite all the tension between the recruits, a dark-haired teenager walked straight up to Natsume and leaned on the wall with an arm, his pearly-white teeth flashing and a star inked on his left cheek.

After a brief silence, Natsume cleared his throat and winced at the permanent smile on the guy's face. "Anything I can do for you?"

The teenager with the star tattoo waved his hand and gave a perfunctory bow. His dog tag clunked on his collarbone and his shiny, tousled mane swayed with his movement, as if it was combed with utmost care.

"I'm Andou Tsubasa," Mr. Flashy Smile stated, "ever heard of the name?"

Natsume blinked and inched a little farther from Tsubasa, somehow getting pissed off at the introduction. "Uh, no. Can I have my space now—"

"What do you mean, never? _Never? _Come on, commercials and the latest sitcom—"

"Get out of here," Natsume snarled with fists clenched, "or I'll kick your ass—"

Tsubasa folded his arms and raised his eyebrow. "Are you sure you can do that?"

All hell broke loose at that statement, and ten minutes later, Tsubasa emerged with a broken nose and a black-eye, and Natsume spit blood on the floor while pinching his swollen cheek. The two of them hissed at each other while their sergeant stood between them, carrying a Glock while fixing _her _uniform.

"It's still the first day, boys," she muttered coldly, "Reserve your boldness for the war. In the meantime, try to act like grown-ups for once." She stared at them with an emotionless gaze and loaded a bullet into her gun.

"You're a female, for Christ's sake," Tsubasa whimpered, cracking his knuckles and glaring at the crimson-eyed guy opposite him. The woman in between the two recruits pointed her gun at the floor, then at Tsubasa's head.

"_I'm _your commander, Mr. Andou. Do as I say and perhaps you can walk out of here, back to your show business or whatever damn films you're starring in, alive."

Natsume rubbed his cheek gently, and caught sight of the insignia on the woman's collar and the name tag on her breast.

_Hotaru Imai._

Tsubasa, unmindful of authority, burst into laughter and snickered mischievously. "Now, now, never thought you'd be a pervert, crimson."

Natsume's eyes flashed dangerously as he gritted his teeth into a straight line—

"Andou, you'd be scrubbing the bathroom floors at 8 pm sharp," Imai said nonchalantly while turning her back on them. She headed to the door and snapped her fingers. "Lights out at nine, breakfast at four."

"Yes, ma'am," the soldiers raised their hands in a salute; Natsume reluctantly followed their example and looked at a miserable Tsubasa, who was wondering about what he would use to clean the bathroom tiles.

.

.

"Fifty pushups, and thirty more for those who would stop in the middle," another military officer named Yuu barked, and even with a lousy stature and round-rimmed glasses, he looked respectable enough. "Single file, soldiers!"

As for Natsume, he lagged around the field, trying to avoid the movie star bastard and the female sergeant who seemed like she had PMS. He stretched his arms slightly and knelt down on the moist grass. He was about to begin the day's exercises when—

"How's it going, Hyuuga?"

Tsubasa ran his hand through his hair and bent down haughtily. Rolling his eyes, Natsume swore under his breath and averted his attention. "Fuck you."

"When? You want it now?" Tsubasa laughed, unbuttoning his uniform ever so slowly. He smirked and licked his lips while showing off his collarbone. Natsume swallowed the bile rising through his throat and focused more on the pushups.

"Andou," Officer Yuu scolded, "Fifty more pushups for you. Hyuuga, carry on."

"But what the he—"

Yuu shot Tsubasa a murderous glimpse. "Don't be such a sissy, soldier," he said, tapping his rifle with precaution. He moved away and inspected the other trainees on the field.

Tsubasa chuckled, "Detention here's a little more fun, huh—"

"Fuck. _Off._"

The lad with the star was caught unawares by the fuming Natsume. After a moment of registration, Tsubasa laughed again, as if he had taken enough drugs and was currently high.

"You learned, huh. That's better."

.

.

That night, the whole squad, without Imai's knowing, gathered outside their pseudo-barracks and whispered amongst themselves.

A soldier named Kokoro Yome put his hand behind him and, as if magically, withdrew a bottle of vodka. He grinned foolishly and called, "Round up, men! We're going to die anyway, so let's have a little bit of fun while we're at it."

Natsume scoffed. These guys would probably be sleeping after three shots, whereas Natsume would still be sober after seven. But Tsubasa was here to annoy the hell out of all of them again, and he shouted, "Yeah, and let's play Dare or Dare!"

"What kind of shit is that?" Mochu cackled and slapped one of the soldiers on the back, earning weird looks. "You even have the guts to make a choice when it's the same, anyway."

Tsubasa raised his chin defiantly and winced. "Exactly. But we're dead men so it doesn't really matter."

The soldiers took their places and Natsume tried to be as far as possible. He didn't want to participate in such a stupid act, but he didn't want to be called a gay, either.

Koko, as Yome was fondly called, set an empty bottle of wine on the table while taking a swig from his shot glass. He cleared his scorched throat and said, "First round, up!"

The bottle spun harshly on the wooden table and pointed to a certain Kitsuneme. The guy on his left, named Hayate, exhaled a sigh of relief while wiping the beads of sweat on his forehead.

Slightly dazed, Koko muttered, "Let's try an easy one first. I dare you, Kitsu, to remove your shirt. _And pants."_

Kitsu's mouth hung open but he immediately eased out of his uniform and tossed his clothes to the ground. He sat down with only his boxers on, a look of pride crossing his face while Mochu choked on his vodka as he saw the Mickey Mouse- themed boxer shorts. He spun the bottle until it stopped in the direction of—

"Damn yeah," Tsubasa stood up and straightened himself, waiting eagerly for his turn to make a fool out of himself.

"You," Koko said in a slurred tone, "kiss that vampire guy over there."

He directed his index finger at Natsume.

Tsubasa squinted, drank another glass of vodka, and wiped his mouth. "With all my pleasure," he sang awkwardly, stumbling to where Natsume was and then grabbing the latter's collar. Natsume coughed at the violent whiff of alcohol. "You fucking bastard—"

And the worst happened.

When Tsubasa withdrew, licked his lips as he once did, and their audience burst into boisterous laughter. "You taste like a girl," Tsubasa muttered happily.

"We're drunk, you asshole," Natsume roared, but the vodka was taking over his senses too, so he couldn't even hurl a fist.

"Yeah. But still."

While Natsume tried to comprehend what exactly happened earlier, the noises died out and Koko finally said, "Okay, next one is…"

.

.

Early in the morning, Hotaru Imai's chilling voice pierced the atmosphere.

"Would anyone care to explain how _the hell _a vodka bottle got past security?" she shouted and slammed her hand against the bed nearest to the doorway. Everybody rose up in stimulus and others groaned because of headaches.

Hotaru threw her gun over her shoulder, expecting Yuu to catch it. She leaned in and examined Koko's bloodshot eyes and squeamish grin. "Hangovers," she snarled, glaring at her subordinates with lethal purple irises. "All of you, squat until the afternoon!"

The command was instantly complied with, but Hotaru dragged Koko backwards and pinched the hair near his ear. "And you, do the same until the _evening_."

.

Five seconds later, Tsubasa moaned and pressed his palm on his leg. "I can't do this anymore," he whimpered amidst the agony of his worn-out limbs. "I'm aching _all over _and this damn headache is killing me."

Natsume rolled his eyes and continued looking at the horizon while squatting without pain, and listening to Kitsu's giggles just made him want to flip his middle finger.

"God, I'm dying!"

Mochu joined Kitsu's chortling, and the both of them hugged their stomachs desperately.

"O, thou do not allow thee to rest by thy hand!"

A growl resounded in Natsume's throat.

"Do thou wish thee to suffer in this carnage of delicate—and not to mention gorgeous—legs?"

The rest of the lot guffawed and three nearly peed in their pants.

"Baby, you're killing m—"

Hotaru aimed her gun at Tsubasa for the second time. "When I told you to squat, I didn't say you had to do it with that mouth of yours." She sent her trademark icy glare at each of her trainees, sighed to herself, and trailed off to the other sergeants.

"You know," Tsubasa mumbled to Natsume, "I think that what she needs is a love life."

"A what?"

"A love life," clarified Tsubasa while making hand gestures. "We do it in movies all the time."

Natsume groused from the tiring position. "Do I look like I give a shit about it?"

"Oh, stop denying," the mischievous actor snickered. Clearly, Tsubasa was just displaying his theatrics a while ago because not even a single trace of twisting hurt could be seen from his face. "Maybe you can try it out with Miss Military, since you're both like mannequins—yeah, mannequins, you're just there and Edward Cullen-ish pale and standing stiffly and—_oh, _I get it," Tsubasa exclaimed in a _Eureka _manner.

Natsume's contorted face asked '_What?'._

"You are untouched," Tsubasa shrilly said. "That kiss from last night, don't tell me it's your first!"

"The what?" Natsume heard something that was a synonym of smooching, but that would be certainly impossible because all of them were _straight _guys in his room.

"You know, some of us even become _homosexuals_ in all-boys sleeping quarters," hinted Tsubasa, his lips curling into a nefarious and double-edged smile. Processing the information, Natsume slowly inhaled and punched Tsubasa square in the face.

"_Hell _no."

Tsubasa cackled in delight and wiped the tears and slight drops of blood on his face with the sleeves of his shirt. "I was kidding, unless you really wanted us to, you know."

"Do you ever have a life?" Natsume deadpanned, obviously worn out from thirty minutes of their punishment. If he couldn't get rid of an annoying piece of crap, then he might as well investigate it— just a little bit, though. "Besides theater and being such a dumbass, I mean."

On the verge of thinking deeply, Tsubasa suddenly perked up. "Well, I had school and stuff."

Natsume sneered. "Never thought you had a brain."

"Well," Tsubasa narrated, "I was kicked out because I couldn't get past sophomore year. When I was in first year I had good grades, then I got addicted to—"

"Drugs? No surprise there."

Tsubasa waved the other soldier off. "As I said, I got, uh, obsessed over a girl. They call it head over heels but it's more like your brain's sandwiched between your butt cheeks."

"So you _are _a dumbass."

Said dumbass didn't try arguing, so he just continued muttering, "And you? How were you before you knew you were going to be a soldier and an almighty bastard?"

Releasing a scorning breath, Natsume said, "I was the son of a police officer, so of course I was an option for the military. But I loathed the idea because there's the term 'world peace' for a reason."

"Yeah," Tsubasa agreed. "I think they just want to show off new nuclear weapons and kick some ass or something."

Without realizing it was already four in the afternoon, the two dark-haired lads talked about the 'bull' of life and about how stupid the each of them was. Hotaru walked past with a smug look on her face, finally satisfied that at least two of her trainees were developing their sense of endurance.

Far from where the crowd was, Koko wailed and cried out, "It was _just _vodka! Harmless! It didn't have a bomb or a freaking enemy tactic—"

Yuu aversely spanked him with the butt of his gun. Again.

.

.

The tanks overtook the prairies and delved into the small forest, the platoons following suit, the soldiers' hearts nervously thudding against their camouflage suits. The squads dispersed at the sound of the first gunshot and everybody rushed to take cover.

When the hazy sunlight touched their faces, Natsume and Tsubasa looked at each other warily, as if it was the last time that they were ever going to see each other again. Before stepping out into the battlefield, their trembling fists collided, and Tsubasa smiled with the star on his cheek wrinkling up a little bit.

"See you later, Hyuuga."

Natsume didn't have to look back when he ran towards the firing line.

.

.

Freshly plucked peonies lay on a new grave.

Natsume, now partially blind, knelt in an honored cemetery and sighed, clueless, himself, as to why he was even here. The idiot even had the nerve to irk him when they first met, and yet here Natsume was, visiting Tsubasa when the latter was six feet underground.

Thinking of their fist-bump before they parted ways, Natsume absent-mindedly touched the tombstone with his knuckles. _Damn idiot._

He stood up and was about to leave when footsteps reverberated through the soil, and because of his military instincts, he turned around with firm hands on his side.

"Oi, did you just actually _punch _a grave?"

Natsume stared at the guy before him and the name etched on the stone. A dozen profanities clouded his mind when he realized that the surname was _bloody _different from Tsubasa's.

Tsubasa laughed a little bit and folded his arms across his chest. "So you _did _miss me."

"Shut the hell up."

"You like it anyway," taunted the boy with the star on his cheek and a scar on his forehead, pulling in the shorter guy and dragging him to the limousine parked on the street. "Come on, I forgot to remind you about something."

Natsume, as usual, rolled his crimson eyes. "What?"

Shoving his 'friend' into the classy limo, Tsubasa feigned confidence and cocky arrogance by flashing his signature smile. "You haven't even watched the sitcom I told you about."

.

.

"More like _bragged _about," Natsume silently grumbled.

.

**End**

* * *

**|Author's Note| **First off, happy Christmas to my Secret Santa baby, _**The Devils Song**__. _This is my first fic for you among multiple gifts, and I hope that you'll like it. Rated T for language. I apologize if I have the slightest sense of humor, ha-ha.

PS. I don't own the game Call of Duty, and Gakuen Alice.


End file.
